


Handwidth

by GhostCrumpet



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Darcy can lift the hammer, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Sweetness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 15:55:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12867972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostCrumpet/pseuds/GhostCrumpet
Summary: Darcy's had a bad day, and Steve well, Steve has a hard time not doing what he wants to make it better.





	Handwidth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mbuzz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mbuzz/gifts).



“I can  _ hear _ you thinking, Rogers.” She was sitting, staring into the TV which was currently displaying a crackling fire. Well, she wasn’t just sitting. Darcy was curled up, plaid blanket laddered up her shoulders, her hair in a messy bun that he wanted to unravel so he could bury his fingers in the curling strands.

“Nat said you’d had a bad day.” He moved up close, wanting to know how much of an invasion of her personal space she’d allow before she told him to fuck off.

She’d told Tony to fuck off. And Vision. And Clint. There was a reason Clint was sulking in the vents. But the most telling indicator of her mood was how she’d sent Thor, of all people, packing out of the common room, sans hammer.

Mjolnir sat on the couch next to her. She twined her fingers through it’s leather strap, and Steve swore, for a moment, that the thing had  _ moved. _

“Nat lies like she breathes,” Darcy replied after a long moment of silence, but her shoulders drooped, making the blanket spill down her body. She was in a soft, ribbed shirt that looked pettable.  _ Be honest, Rogers, her shirt isn’t the damn reason you want to touch her. _ He cleared his throat.

“You scared off Thor.”

“He was being an ass.”

“Thor?”

“... okay maybe I was being an ass,” she amended, and then turned her neck, looking at him ever so slightly. “So cursing everybody out means I get the Captain Mother Hen routine?” Her itchy, sharp words weren’t going to scare him off. If the Avengers were the lifeblood of the world, Darcy was the heart, pumping them along and keeping them moving. Without her, they were nothing. Maybe she’d forgotten that, in amongst the day-to-day details that kept her run off her feet.

“Bucky said you’d gotten… ‘dumped like a sack’a potatoes’... do you want me to punch him for you?” He wanted to know if it was true. Her fingers tightened in the strap, and then he was positive the hammer was moving. She slid it off the couch, setting it down gently on the floor and patted the depressed spot in the cushion where it had rested.

“Nah, I’ll get him back later. I didn’t get dumped. I mean, I actually did dumping. Except not like that,” she said, as he took her invitation without any hesitation. He settled down beside her, and took the corner of the blanket when she offered it up to him.

Then Darcy folded herself into his shoulder, her arm sneaking around his waist, her head on his shoulder. His heart ached. God, he’d give anything to make this  _ real _ and permanent. Anything.  _ Anything... _

“Had a friend. Kinda loved him more than friendly-friends should, right? Anyway. He had some dumb opinions about stuff. So he’s not my friend anymore. And I should be happy? Like, I stood up for myself. I told him what was what and didn’t take his shit today. But he doubled down… and… it’s kinda wrecking me that I’m not worth him stopping his idiot thoughts over,” she said, her words getting more hoarse as she rambled on. She turned her head properly to look up at him, and tears clung to her lashes, making those bright blue eyes burn. “I miss him, even if he’s an ass. I miss the bits of him that are good, and lovely, and worth missing.”

He let out a slow breath and wrapped her up in his arms, in blankets, in as much affection as he could get away with that didn’t give off the soft hum of his thoughts in the background of  _ IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyou… _

“Stop looking at me like that,” she said, voice quiet.

“Huh? Like what?”

“Like I wish he’d looked at me.”

His heart sank, and he glanced away, to spare her that pain, of the naked affection he clearly was doing a shit-ass job of hiding.

“Can’t help it,” he gruffed. “And if I’m honest, and bad, I’m glad he never did.”

Darcy made a softly irritated noise.

“What?”

He had to look back at her. He had to. So he did, and then his arms tightened and he was pulling her up, into him, and his lips were finding hers.

He kissed her, warm, and sweet, the armful of her body not resisting.

“I’m lucky and he’s an idiot,” he said when he could breathe again, her face a hands-width away from his.

“Oh,” was all Darcy could respond with, which he took as a good sign, and a good excuse to kiss her again.


End file.
